Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“If I can avoid it, I will. Particularly my own.”
“And that pretty girl you’ve got working for you. How did she react to seeing you kill a man? That girl is trouble, Peter. Beautiful, but trouble.”
I stare toward the bathroom and listen to the water running. “She’ll be all right,” I say but I’m not so sure. “Tell me what you find. I’ll keep my head down for a few days.”
I hang up and pour myself a drink. As the whiskey warms my throat and belly, I think about what Adrienne must be feeling right now. I know the bare outlines of what happened to her with the Russians—kidnapped, tortured, escaped—and I know there was blood and violence involved. But I don’t know the details, and I don’t know how watching a man get shot in front of her is going to affect her moving forward.
This is the problem with working with people. I’ve never had to worry about anyone’s feelings other than my own, but now I have to keep Adrienne’s in mind if I want to make sure she doesn’t panic and do something stupid.
I finish my drink, check the time, and make another call. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” Papa says with a smile in his voice. “How are things in Greece?”
“Things in Greece are boring,” I say and push back against the guilt over lying to my old man. Lord knows he fucking deserves it and wouldn’t tell me a damn thing if he were in my spot. “You really must want the Italians to owe you some favors if you’re going to keep me out here babysitting this girl.”
“Ah, come now, I saw her. Kacia’s friend is pretty. Why not enjoy yourselves?”
“She’s pretty like a pit bull.”
“So picky, Peter. You need a nice girl to settle down with. Have some babies.”
“Nice girls don’t go for men like us, Papa.”
“That’s true enough, my boy, true enough. Except your mother, God rest her soul, she was a saint.”
“A saint slumming with a sinner.”
“As it sometimes goes.” He lets out a low chuckle. “What’s the news with the crime lords?”
I fill him in on the recent happenings, but don’t mention Balaska or what happened tonight. I feed him morsels of simple gossip to make it seem like I’m keeping my ear to the ground, and Papa accepts it without questioning too much. I’ve been a good soldier and a loyal son for a very long time now—he has no reason to suspect I might be striking out on my own.
There’s some residual guilt in my chest. I don’t enjoy doing this, sneaking around, working behind my family’s back, but there’s no other way to break free. My life was given up to the Calimeris family since the day I was born and nobody bothered to ask if I was happy about it. I was raised, trained, and thrown into hell, and expected to be unflinchingly happy about the whole thing.
After thirty years of service to my father’s crime family, I have only one two things to show for it. A heft bank account and hard-won skills.
Otherwise, my life is empty.
“One more thing,” I say and hope I sound like I’m being casual. “I found some work here. It’s nothing important, but I’m going to stay a while longer.”
“You’re enjoying yourself in Greece, aren’t you? I told you it’d be good. Get yourself some space from the Italians and clear your head. Things with Luca weren’t going so well.”
“Luca’s a self-righteous prick and you should’ve let me kill him.”
“You’ll have another chance one day, I’m sure. If you still want that.”
I consider it and shake my head. “I’ve got more important things.”
“Like that girl.” Papa laughs again. “Go make sure she’s safe, all right? Tell her Kacia says hello. She asked me to pass that along the next time you and I spoke.”
“You’re passing messages for a Florakis now?”
“I’m passing messages for the future wife of Luca Valverde. You malakas.”
I hang up the phone. The shower’s still running. She’s been in there for nearly twenty minutes now and I can’t help the damn worrying. This is why I don’t get involved.
I walk to the bathroom, knock twice, and open the door a crack.
“What are you doing?” She’s still in the shower and I don’t peek inside.
“Checking to make sure everything’s okay.”
“I’m fine, don’t worry. I haven’t fallen into the drain or drowned in the shower. Can you please go away?”
I stare at the fogged mirror. I can see the barest outline of her—pink, naked skin, the curves of her body. “You want to talk about what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about anything with you.”
“There’s nobody else, remember? You’re stuck here with me. By choice, I’ll remind you.”
“Thank you, yes, I’m aware it was my stupid fucking choice to leash myself to a goddamn Greek gangster.” She sucks in a breath and blows it out. “I’m tired, okay?”